The Great Locomotive Chase
by Megana
Summary: A 'false' trail brings Basil and Company to America. Can they survive the Wild West?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

* * *

Meg: Disclaimer: The Great Mouse Detective and all related characters are the property of Disney and Eve Titus. Meg Sarentis and all other characters are property of Meg Sarentis. The Great Locomotive Chase was an actual event that happened during the Civil War, but it has nothing to do with this story. Standard Oil was also an actual company in the late 1800's, but I barely know anything about it. The Standard Oil of the mouse world is not the same thing. OK then! Enjoy!

* * *

I looked at the piece of paper in my paw for the hundredth time. This was it; Flaversham Toys. A bell rang as I entered the shop.  
  
"Can I help you, miss?" An older mouse came out from a side room, wearing a work apron and glasses too big for his face.  
  
"Are you Mr. Flaversham?" I asked.  
  
"Why yes, that would be me," he answered.  
  
I smiled. "I am Meg Havers, Mr. Basil and Dr. Dawson's assistant."  
  
"Oh, Mrs. Havers!" he exclaimed. "It is so good to finally meet you! Come in, come in!" He motioned for his young apprentice to take over the shop as he ushered me into the living quarters at the very back of the shop.

* * *

_10 days earlier..._  
  
I had been reading in the study when Basil entered the room. "Meg? May I ask a favor of you?"  
  
I looked up at him. "All right," I said. "What is it?"  
  
"I need you in America right now."  
  
"We're going to America? Why?"  
  
"Correction: You're going to America. I'm working on that French lieutenant's case right now, but a bit of a concern has arisen that I need you on top of."  
  
I shot him a suspicious look. Basil had been acting rather funny lately around me; I wondered if this had something to do with it, or if he was merely trying to get rid of me.  
  
He handed me a letter. "You know who Hiram Flaversham is, don't you?"  
  
"He's the toy maker that was kidnapped by Ratigan about four years ago, right?"  
  
Basil sharply glanced at me at the sound of Ratigan's name. "Well, he's owned a toy shop in New York City ever since, but he is also an inventor, in his spare time. He is a bit suspicious about a mouse named Matthew Childres, president of the Rodent Standard Oil Company. Supposedly Childres has visited him several times in the past few months, requesting that he take a job with Standard Oil."  
  
I wondered if he held me for being a complete idiot. "Why is this so suspicious?" I demanded.  
  
Basil seemed a little embarrassed. "Well," he began, "Standard Oil doesn't has the best reputation. It was caught in the middle of corrupt dealings in the '80's. And Matthew Childres is a multi-millionaire. Why would he personally go to Flaversham's toyshop to offer the job? He has other employees to do that."  
  
I started to protest that this did not require any detective work on my part when he cut in, "I just need you to run a background check on Childres and a few others. Talk to Flaversham about it, but don't tell him that what you're doing. Will you please do that for me?"  
  
I paused. Seeing my hesitation, he quickly added, "It most likely is nothing, but sometimes the most unlikely cases tend to be the most important."  
  
"And you didn't send Dawson because..."  
  
"I don't think he could handle this job," Basil said.  
  
"I beg your pardon!"  
  
He gave me a mischievous grin. "It would break his heart to be separated from his Miss Isabelle Fremly."  
  
I burst out laughing. Dawson had been paying visits every few days to Colonel Fremly's manor ever since we got back from China. Basil had complained that the doctor spent more time there than he did at Baker Street. I unmercifully teased Dawson about it; he insisted that he was not 'courting' Isabelle.  
  
"I think he's going to propose before they even start courting," I said. The suggestion made Basil blanch.  
  
"What's wrong?" I asked.  
  
"Oh, nothing," he said with a sigh.  
  
"You have a problem with Dawson getting married!" I exclaimed.  
  
"No, I don't!" he maintained, avoiding my gaze. He could not for long, however, As soon as his eyes met mine, he threw up his hands in despair. "All right, I do!"  
  
"Why, Basil?"  
  
"Because," he sighed again, "because he'd leave Baker Street. I quite enjoy him as a partner, and I'm not willing to lose him this way."  
  
"But you won't certainly remain a bachelor all your life, will you?"  
  
He mumbled something that sounded like, "That depends." Then he looked up at me again. "I honestly don't know. I never actually considered it. And what about you, Megana?"  
  
I blushed. "I have no prospects."  
  
He changed the subject. "So, will you accept the case?"  
  
"Yes, I'll do it. And Basil?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'll still be here at Baker Street long after Dawson is gone."

* * *

Mr. Flaversham was the most fatherly person I had ever known. He made me feel more like a daughter than a mere acquaintance. We had been talking for about two hours when a playful voice shouted, "Father! I'm home!"  
  
"Oh, that'll be my Olivia, home from school," Flaversham said.  
  
A girl of about ten years came dashing into the room. She was absolutely adorable. "Father, I had the most wonderful day today! I won the spelling bee!" she said happily.  
  
"Congratulations, my dear!" her father said, visibly proud.  
  
"How was your day, Daddy?"  
  
"Olivia, there's a lovely young lady I want you to meet."  
  
Olivia smiled brightly at me.  
  
"This is Mrs. Havers, Mr. Basil's assistant."  
  
"Oh, you're really Megana? I just love that name! Basil talks about you all the time in his letters. Is it true you saved him from a pirate ship? Can you really swordfight? Did you really shoot-"  
  
"That's enough questions for now, my dear," Flaversham interrupted, trying to chuckle. "Mrs. Havers has had a long journey, and she's probably tired." I noticed his enunciation of my formal title.  
  
"That's all right sir," I said. "I'll answer any question she has. Olivia, come here." She came. I pulled out a present from my bag. "Basil wanted me to deliver this to you." She eagerly unwrapped a copy of _The Arabian Nights._  
  
"Oh, I love this book! Thank you Mrs. Havers, thank you!"  
  
The girl's happiness was contagious. "Thank Basil," I said. "And Olivia, you may call me Meg."  
  
"May I call you Megana?"  
  
I laughed. "Of course you may."

* * *

Meg: I took a guess on Olivia's age. At least I'm not as off as I probably was with Ratigan's.  
  
RAEB: Yeah, you were REALLY off. We all think you're messed up.  
  
Meg: _(Sarcastically)_ Thanks a lot RAEB.  
  
JWJ: Childres? Matthew CHILDRES?  
  
Meg: Well, it used to be 'Kallaw', but then the real Jesse Kallaw... he was sort of mad at me for using his name.  
  
JWJ: Well, what about the real _Matthew Childres_?  
  
Meg: _(Evil grin)_ What about him?  
  
JWJ: You're evil. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Emma: Hey, is Ratigan in this story?  
  
Meg: Well, I was threatened last time. So perhaps.  
  
Emma: Can't you give a straight answer for once?  
  
Meg: Uh, no.

* * *

The next few days were absolutely wonderful. Mr. Flaversham and Olivia treated me as if I was a part of their family. I took Olivia to the park and played with her after school. I spent the evenings talking with Mr. Flaversham.  
  
New York City was noisy, dirty, and crowded. It was very dangerous at night, when the stray cats hunted out any mouse that was foolish enough to show so much as a whisker in the streets. I did not like it too much, but the Flavershams lived in a nice neighborhood. The slums were the places you had to stay away from.  
  
The day after my arrival I searched out the Rodent Standard Oil Company's headquarters in New York City. I was turned down flat when I asked for personal information regarding Matthew Childres. Instead, I went to the police station and got what I needed. Apparently Standard Oil had a monopoly over the oil industry about twenty years ago, and Childres had played a key role in bribing other companies to merge with his so he could control the market. But no one could do anything about it because there was no law against it at the time. But besides that, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.  
  
I sent a telegram to Basil explaining what I had found, but he urged me to keep looking. I pretended to be a reporter for a woman magazine, but Childres refused to see me. His secretary, however, was delighted to tell me anything she knew about Childres. But besides most of the information I got from the police, she only had vague suspicions of any corrupt dealings. She thought he was part of a gang, but then again, anyone in an important position in those days were thought to be in a gang or the mafia. She told me that he also met with foreigners all the time, but I did not see what that had to do with corrupt dealings. She was not too bright.

* * *

_Mr. Basil _

_Lower 221B Baker Street  
  
Tried talking to Childres. Turned down. Talked to secretary instead. Unreliable source. Sending list of associates. Expect it in one week. Anything else you want me to do?  
  
Mrs. J. Havers_  
  
Basil sighed. He had to give her credit; the girl was trying.  
  
The door opened. Dawson came in drenched from the storm outside.  
  
"It's horrible out there," the doctor gasped as he took off his wet things. Basil nodded in reply. Dawson looked over at the telegram in his hand. "Do you have another case?" he asked.  
  
"No," was Basil's curt reply.  
  
"Then... it's not from Meg, is it?"  
  
"All right! I am the most despicable fiend in the world!" Basil slammed his fist on the tea table.  
  
Dawson sat down and regarded his friend. "I still don't understand. Why did you send her over there again?"  
  
Basil held his head in his hands. "I sent her on a false case. Matthew Childres' requests for Flaversham aren't half as suspicious as I make them out to be."  
  
"You were trying to get her out of the way," Dawson said quietly.  
  
"I am trying to protect her, Dawson. You know as well as I do that traces of Ratigan's organization are gradually being discovered. I don't want her in the path of danger. She'll be much safer in America."

* * *

That night the Flavershams and I went to the theater. One the way home Olivia was bombarding me with questions about my acting career.  
  
"How many plays have you done?" she asked as we jolted along in a carriage.  
  
"Not many. I only worked at the London Theater Company for about 9 months."  
  
"Was your husband an actor?"  
  
"No. He was a violinist in the orchestra."  
  
"Did you ever kiss another mouse?"  
  
"On stage?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Well..." I sighed dramatically as she eagerly waited for my response. "Yes."  
  
She gave me a look of absolute shock. "Olivia!" Mr. Flaversham reprimanded.  
  
"It's called acting. It doesn't mean a thing in real life." 

"It doesn't? But wasn't your husband angry?"  
  
"Josh? Never. In fact, he'd often tell me to do it more realistically!"  
  
The carriage stopped a block away from Flaversham's Toys. We jumped off and walked the rest of the way to the toyshop.  
  
Mr. Flaversham led the way to the back door of the shop. He went to unlock it, but the door opened before he got the chance to.  
  
The toy maker seemed a bit worried at first, but then he said, "Caleb probably forgot to lock it behind us when we left. That boy is so forgetful sometimes." Caleb, the apprentice, had not wanted to go to the theater. "Caleb?" No answer.  
  
A board creaked. All three of us jumped.  
  
"He's probably asleep," Flaversham whispered, trying to hide the panic in his tone. I made my way to Caleb's little bedroom; Olivia and her father following close behind. I paused before I turned the doorknob. Then I slowly inched it open.  
  
We found the boy on his bed. He was tied and gagged, and sported several dark bruises. Flaversham pushed his daughter in the direction of the door, and whispered urgently, "Run!"

* * *

JWJ: _(Sarcastically) _Oh no, people are in danger once again.  
  
Sarah: It's more interesting that way.  
  
JWJ: This story has no plot.  
  
Leigh: Um, finding Caleb tied on a bed suggests the starts of an excellent plot.  
  
JWJ: Yeah, sure. And I'm the Queen of England.  
  
Leigh: No, you're too ugly.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

Lizz: Oh, yeah, that was mean of Basil to send Meg on a false trail.  
  
Meg: Plot people, PLOT!

* * *

"Not so fast," an almost whiny voice commanded. I froze. A muscular mouse stood right in our path, but he had not been the one talking. I spotted two others behind him. The smallest continued talking. "Now come with us, sir, and we promise we won't do nothin' to you or your little girl."  
  
I pushed Flaversham and Olivia behind me and faced the three kidnappers. "Over my dead body!" I cried.  
  
"No Mrs. Havers!" the toy maker hissed. "Let me defend my own family."  
  
I ignored him. "Who's that?" the middle-sized mouse asked. "No one said nothin' about no broad."  
  
"Who cares? Gut 'er and get the others!" the small one, who was obviously the leader, ordered.  
  
"Aaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!" I did not realize I had shouted that out until I had kicked the big mouse in the chest. He fell back into his two comrades, bringing them all to the floor. Flaversham grabbed Olivia and the three of us ran pass the would-be captors. The small mouse reached for my foot, but it slipped from his grasp. The middle-sized one recovered first and lunged at me.  
  
"Go!" I screamed to the Flavershams.  
  
Mr. Flaversham pushed the girl to the door and ran back to help me.  
  
"No! Go!" I repeated as I fought the mouse. I almost had him.  
  
His buddies were there to help by that time, and the big mouse assisted the middle-sized one in trying to pin me down. The small one pressed a gun to my head and barked, "I'll blow your brains out if you move again!"  
  
I immediately stopped. I was no use to anyone dead.  
  
Flaversham stopped too. I noticed Olivia had not tried to leave at all.

* * *

"Get in there!" the middle-sized mouse shoved me roughly into a small closet and slammed the door. I heard a key turn in the lock.  
  
I had been beaten, blindfolded and dragged through the streets of New York. I had absolutely no idea where I was. The last I had seen of Mr. Flaversham and Olivia, they had been tied up too, but had not left the toyshop like I had.  
  
I struggled with the bonds on my hands and feet. I realized that the ropes on my hands were not tied on very tightly, and if I worked with them enough, I could probably loosen them. In ten minutes I was completely free. _But how do I get out of here?_ Suddenly I had a plan.  
  
I started to bang on the door. At first my captor ignored me, but after a few minutes it started to bother him. "Shuddup in there, will ya!" he yelled. I continued my pounding. "If you don't quit it, you're gonna wish you was never born!"  
  
I ignored his threats. Finally I heard him unlock the door. When he opened it I gave him a sharp kick in the groin. He crouched over, groaning. I found a fireplace poker for a weapon. Tripping the thug, I easily pinned him down and held the poker close to his throat. "Okay pal," I said, breathing heavily. "Who has the Flavershams? And don't try anything funny. I've killed pirates before."  
  
He took me for my word. "My boss."  
  
"Who is your boss, scum?"  
  
"Uh..."  
  
I pushed the poker closer. "Don't you lie to me!"  
  
"Okay, okay, it's Childres!"  
  
"Childres? The president of Standard Oil?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
_So Basil had been right about him._ "Why does he want them?"  
  
"How should I know? He just told us to get the toy maker."  
  
"Where did your buddies take Mr. Flaversham and his daughter?"  
  
"Uh... San Antonio."  
  
"_Where?"_  
  
"Texas."  
  
"How are they going to get there?"  
  
"Rail."  
  
"What station?"  
  
"Grand Central. But you're too late. The train leaves at one!"  
  
His eyes darted to the wall on my right. I followed his glance to a clock there. Quarter to one.  
  
"Ten minutes!" I gasped.  
  
I still had him pinned down, but I was starting to lose my footing. The thug shoved me off and pulled out a switchblade. I thought about fighting him, but decided to try to get to the train before it left. I dropped the poker and ran out of the room.  
  
I flew down flights of stairs and past machinery. I was in a factory. Once outside, I realized that I was in the slums, with no idea where to go.  
  
I finally started off through the deserted streets, trying to find some directions. Suddenly a fat yellow cat jumped in front of my path. I gave a small shrieked.  
  
"Mmmmm... I could go for a midnight snack about now," he purred.  
  
"Oh really?" I squeaked. "Well, uh, eating this late can be bad for you." _What was I saying?_ I slowly started to back up. "Well, uh, see you later?"  
  
I turned to run. The cat leaped in my path. "I don't think so."  
  
He pounced. I threw myself sideways, and he missed me. He pawed at me, knocking me into the street. I fell next to a sewer grate. I quickly rolled myself into the sewer, landing into a pile of wet newspapers and sludge.

* * *

After traveling the sewer for some distance, I crawled out and found my way to Grand Central Station. Of course I was too late.  
  
I bought a ticket for the next train to San Antonio, and then sent a telegram to Basil telling him exactly what had happened and that I was going after them. Since the train did not leave until 8:00 am, I went back to the apartment, freed Caleb (who was still tied up), got my things, and used the Flavershams' telephone to call the police. I told Caleb to stay there until they arrived, and went back to the station.  
  
Even though it had been about an hour since I had sent the telegram, I checked to see if there was any response. When there was not, I acquired a list of stops before the train reached San Antonio and sent them to Basil.  
  
Afterwards, I found a seat and waited, exhausted.  
  
_This is it. You're all alone. You've got to act the part of the detective now.  
_

* * *

Sarah: How come the cat can talk? Felicia and Toby never did.  
  
Meg: I was thinking more of "An American Tail". Sorry.  
  
Sarah: Then why don't you change it?  
  
Meg: Because this story just seems to make more sense with talking cats/dogs. You'll see.  
  
JWJ: Meaning that she was just too lazy to change it.  
  
Meg: Hey! 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

In Pittsburgh, the first stop, I checked again for a telegram. To my surprise I found one.  
  
_Meg, STAY WHERE YOU ARE! Wait until I get there. That mouse was likely lying. I can't chase you halfway across the States. DO NOT PURSUE THOSE MICE! Leaving today on 3pm liner. _

_Basil  
_  
I tore up the telegram. _That jerk!_  
  
My reply was:  
  
_Basil, Not waiting. Already in Pittsburgh. Questioned Flaversham's apprentice, found out I was right. Finding them on my own. _

_Meg_

_

* * *

_For the next three days I traveled by rail all the way to San Antonio. By the end of the trip, I was running low on cash and had not received a response.  
  
As soon as I got off the train, I was dumbfounded. All the Texan towns I had heard of were very dusty, dry, and quite uncivilized. San Antonio had neat rows of wood and stone buildings, with very little dust. It was buzzing with activity.  
  
I found a room in a boardinghouse and immediately after searched out Childres' headquarters in town. After asking a few mice, I found out that it was about 2 miles outside of town. I would need to get a wagon, coach, or some other service to get there. Luckily Mrs. Pipton, the woman who ran the boardinghouse, told me that he usually stayed at the Carlton Hotel when he was in town.  
  
The third day I was in San Antonio, I went to the hotel, but that surprised me too. It was very elegant; many rich mice stayed there. At the front desk I asked for Childres' room number, and actually got it. But then I was stumped. I had not thought of how I was going to find the Flavershams this way. They were most likely at Childres' headquarters outside of town, but I could not be certain of that. I needed a plan.

* * *

"Can I help you, ma'am?"  
  
I jumped to my feet, banging my head on a wall painting as I straightened myself up from behind a large, potted plant. The maid gave me a confused look. "Oh! Um, yes, I'm fine. I just lost my earring, and I thought I might have dropped it here."

"Ma'am, your earring is on your ear-"  
  
"Oh, um, yes... how foolish of me. Thank you!" I said in a loud voice.  
  
The maid waited for me to leave first. When I did not, she asked, "Is everything all right?"  
  
"Yes!" I practically shouted. I tried to compose myself. "I mean, yes, I'm quite all right. Goodbye now."  
  
Trying not to seem rude by staying, yet unsure of my suspicious behavior, the maid slowly walked away, giving me small glances every few steps.  
  
When she was out of sight, I returned to my spot behind the plant, always keeping an eye on Childres' door. _Why isn't he coming out? Dinner was brought to him an hour ago. He has go to see the Flavershams sometime!  
_  
A quarter of an hour later, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I yelped.

"Ma'am?" the same maid asked again. "Are you feeling well?"  
  
"Um... I... uh..."  
  
The door I had been watching opened, and a middle-aged mouse with slightly gray fur came out. He was dressed in a darker gray suit, and carried a silver cane.  
  
"Pardon me," I asked the young girl, "But who is that man?"  
  
"Him? Why, that's Mr. Childres, the oil owner."  
  
"Really?" My voice was faint. I had not expected to actually be this close to him. "Um... pardon me..." I slowly followed the millionaire down the hallway.  
  
Ten minutes later, I found myself in front of a saloon_. I should've known. All men are alike. All they do is drink and gamble._ I took a deep breath and stepped inside.  
  
Another astonishment. The air was full of cigar smoke, but it was well-lit and fairly clean inside. A solitary piano player was in the corner. No showgirls, and many of the "barmaids" looked very respectable. It was nothing like the seaside pubs in London.  
  
I took a table in the corner and ordered a small bottle of brandy. I tried to sip it, but it was too strong for me. I watched Childres talk with three other, well-dressed mice for two hours. I was starting to get bored. This detective stuff was not as interesting as it was made out to be.  
  
Around 11 o'clock Childres got up and bid the others goodbye. I quickly paid and followed him out of the saloon.  
  
He took a cab back to the hotel.  
  
I went back to the boardinghouse. _Maybe tomorrow..._

* * *

It was the same for four more days. Childres went out around 8 or 9 and drank at the saloon for two hours, usually playing poker with the same three mice.  
  
On the fifth day I waited until he went out, then picked the lock to his room. I searched for an hour for any clues as to the whereabouts of the Flavershams, but came up with nothing. So I went to the saloon, but almost ran into him on his way out.  
  
"Oh! Pardon me," I said quickly.  
  
"That's quite all right, miss," he answered, tipping his hat. "Good evening."  
  
I went into the saloon so I would not arouse suspicion from Childres. He took a cab. I ran to the sidewalk and hailed another cab, following him to another saloon.  
  
Immediately I could tell that this one was rowdier than the last one. Much rowdier. The loud screaming and drunken yells from the inside said it all.  
  
I went around to the back, looking for an entrance where I would not be noticed. I found myself in a crowded dressing room. Showgirls in revealing dresses were bustling about, putting on makeup and adjusting their costumes. Some of them stared at me.

_They know I don't belong here.  
_  
I went to the stage and peeked out at the crowd. There was Childres, at a table with a ferret and a much larger mouse. Childres was facing my direction, and he seemed to be in good spirits.  
  
"Hey!" someone shouted, pulling me backwards. It was a piano player. "Are you the replacement for Kristen? She said she was sending a friend to perform until she-"  
  
"No! I... um... wait, yes!" I stuttered.  
  
"Good," he said. "I'm Jesse, the piano player. Now, she said that you didn't have an act or anything, but that you were a decent singer. What songs do you know?"  
  
He pulled me to the dressing room as he spoke. "Sarah! Emily! Rachel! Help this girl into her costume!"  
  
I was pulled out of my plain dress and into a gold and black silk thing. The girls Jesse had called put on large amounts of makeup on my face as the piano player chatted on.  
  
"Okay, you're singing three songs, then offstage with you! Remember them?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," I gasped as I was pushed towards the stage.  
  
"By the way, what's your name?"  
  
"Name?" I had not thought of an alias. "Uh..." I looked around me. There was a fake rose in one of the dancer's hair. "Rosie."  
  
"Okay Rosie, let's go!"

* * *

Loud piano music started to play. The curtain lifted as a young girl started up an old sailor ditty. Her voice was beautiful.  
  
Childres and his two comrades, who had been deep in conversation before, stopped to watch the dark-haired girl on stage.  
  
"She's right pretty," the ferret, who had a bit of a twang to his voice, said stupidly. He was getting himself fearfully drunk.  
  
"Yes..." Childres looked closely at the girl's face. She ended her song and started up another one. "I do believe I have seen her before..."  
  
The ferret did not seem to hear the comment. "Me think I'll pay her a beer."  
  
"Don't get yourself drunk!" Childres snapped. "I didn't come all this way just for you to intoxicate yourself so. You're here on business."  
  
The large mouse next to him ignored them. The singer enraptured him.  
  
He murmured to himself, "It can't be..."

* * *

The yells and catcalls of the rodents in the saloon followed me as I left the stage. I hurried to the dressing room to look for my dress. After searching for five minutes, I finally found it thrown in a corner. I went to a mirror and started to take my makeup off.  
  
"Megana!" an angry voice behind me barked.  
  
I saw the speaker's reflection in the mirror. My blood froze.  
  
"You!"

* * *

JWJ: _(Mockingly) _Sarah! Emily! Rachel!  
  
RAEB: _(After a slight pause) _Hey, we're in the story!  
  
Emma: You changed my name...  
  
RAEB: And mine!  
  
Meg: You both asked me to!  
  
Sarah: How come Leigh and Lizz aren't in it?  
  
Meg: They didn't want to be.  
  
JWJ: _(To himself)_ They're the only smart ones around here besides me, of course. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

I spun around. Professor Ratigan's face was red with anger. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. The showgirls backstage chose to ignore us.  
  
I tried to protest, but could not find my voice. I tried to remember everything I had been taught about kung fu, but at that moment it all slipped from my mind.  
  
He led me out the back way, hissing, "What are you doing in a place like this? You're going to get yourself killed! You, of all mice! Right on stage, too! I thought you were above that!" He ranted and raved as he took me to a waiting cab. "What a shock for me it was to see Meg Sarentis dancing in a saloon for a crowd of ruffians!"  
  
I suddenly came to my senses. I tried pulling out of his grasp, but he held on tighter. "You're not going anywhere!" he snarled.  
  
"Let go!" I gasped. I tried to kick him, but I was too close. He grabbed my arms and pinned them to my side, then dragged me into the cab. It started off as soon as he closed the door. He immediately gagged me.  
  
I struggled so much he had to hold me until the cab stopped at a dry goods store. Ratigan carried me up to a living room on the second floor of the building before depositing me on an old, worn sofa.  
  
I immediately took off the gag.  
  
"Don't expect to get any help if you scream," he said as he turned on a gas lamp. "All of the owners of the stores around here don't reside in them." The professor went to the door and locked it, putting the key in the pocket of his waistcoat.  
  
I looked around me. There were no windows in this apartment. All of the furniture looked rather dusty and worn, but well kept. A stove sat in the corner. Ratigan laid his hat and cape down on a table and stood in front of me.  
  
"WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THAT SALOON!" he screamed, his face turning bright red once again. Even though he was the only individual I most hated and feared, it took me a great effort to resist the urge to laugh. He almost looked like an overripe tomato. "WELL?"  
  
I calmed myself down enough to answer, "That's really none of your business."  
  
"OF COURSE IT'S MY BUSINESS!" he roared. I started to rock back and forth to prevent myself from laughing. He just looked so funny! "I'll ask you once more: What were you doing in that scum hole?"  
  
I burst. I really could not control myself. I laughed right in his face. I laughed so hard that tears started to come to my eyes.  
  
Ratigan was furious. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me until I quieted down a bit, but I was still giggling. "What's so amusing?" he demanded.  
  
"You!" I started up again. "You're acting just like a worried parent! Hahahah, you don't have any authority over me!"  
  
He searched my face. "Are you drunk? Drugged?"  
  
"What? No!"  
  
He took out a pen. "Follow this with your eyes."  
  
I passed the test. The rat paced up and down the room. I let out a chuckle once in a while.  
  
"I've run out of logical excuses for you to be in there. What were you doing?"  
  
"Well, I could ask you what you were doing in there too, heheh."  
  
"Don't act smart with me Meg!" I folded my arms and glared at him, all the amusement gone. He still walked back and forth. "Well?"  
  
"What do you think I was doing there?"  
  
"You are the most infuriating girl I have ever known!"  
  
"Fine! I was following Matthew Childres."  
  
"Childres? The oil tycoon?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"For heaven's sake, why?"  
  
"He kidnapped Hiram and Olivia Flaversham."  
  
Ratigan stopped pacing and turned toward me. "How do you know this?" he asked.  
  
"Because I was there!" I explained to him what had happened that night. He was taken aback.  
  
"But Basil didn't reach America until after the kidnapping. What were you doing in New York?"  
  
"He sent me to... wait, how do you know that?" Silence. Then it dawned on me. "You!" I leaped up from my seat and tried to hit him. "You!"  
  
He tried to pin my arms down again, but I had caught him by surprise. Instead he pushed me to the floor. Before I could get up, he was on me.  
  
"I've heard all about your little 'exploits' in Shanghai," he said. "Unfortunately for you, my dear, I'm still stronger than you."  
  
"You're responsible for their capture! What did you do with them?"  
  
"You ask too many questions. You make me weary." He got off me. As I took my seat on the sofa, he continued, "They're still alive. I won't kill them... yet."  
  
"But why?"  
  
"I knew that if the Flavershams were in any trouble, Basil and his 'chum' Dr. Dawson would, without hesitation, come to their rescue. They're walking right into a trap." He laughed.  
  
I wished I had a gun at that moment. This time I got up and started to pace. "So Childres has nothing to do with this?"  
  
Ratigan smirked. "He works for me."  
  
I stopped. "He works for you?"  
  
"Why yes. I have connections everywhere. I promised Childres a price for the capture of the Flavershams and your two friends at Lower 221B Baker Street. He was more than willing to oblige me."  
  
"They've been captured already?"  
  
"Not yet. I received a telegram about two hours ago that they were still on a train headed for San Antonio. They're only hours away now."  
  
"And what about me? How did I figure into this bargain?" I asked.  
  
Ratigan pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. "You," he said rather soothingly, "were to be left alone. I know how Basil's mind works. He knew the moment he found out about the kidnappings that I had been behind it. If you had been at Baker Street when this had happened, he would've left you there and gone to America. No one would've been there to protect you."  
  
"What if Dawson had stayed with me?" It did not really matter now, but I was stalling for time to think of a plan for escape.  
  
"It would've been all too easy to terminate the good doctor and retrieve you," he answered. "But now you have come to me."  
  
I turned away from him. He drew closer. I spun around again and slapped him fully in the face. He staggered backwards, knocking a chair over. "Damn you, woman!" he shouted.  
  
I ran to the door, temporarily forgetting that it was locked. Then I tried to kick it open. Ratigan had recovered and he grabbed my arms. Legs flailing, I screamed, "I hate you! Black-hearted scoundrel, you'll kill anyone! First Josh, then the Flavershams and Dawson and Basil!"  
  
He shoved me into a bedroom and locked me inside. This room had no windows either. I found a chair and started hitting the door with it. When that wore me out, I resorted to pounding on the door.  
  
"Let me out!"  
  
"You think I'd do that?" he barked.  
  
"I'm going to kill you!"  
  
"No you're not, my dear. A simple girl like you is no match for the most brilliant mind in the world."  
  
I was leaning on the door when Ratigan opened it again. I fell into him. He pressed a handkerchief over my nose and mouth. It was soaked with chloroform.  
  
"You're too independent for your own good," he snarled as I fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

JWJ: You've brought Ratigan back to life again!  
  
Meg: What are you talking about? He hasn't been 'dead' since "Sing Sweetly."  
  
Lizz: Hahaha! You got him this time Meg!  
  
JWJ: Oh shut up!  
  
Lizz: Hey, what's going to happen to Meg now?  
  
Leigh: Making her faint. How dramatic.  
  
Meg: Well, it works. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

Lizz: LOL, 'are you drunk? DRUGGED? Follow this with your eyes!'  
  
Leigh: That cracks me up!  
  
Emma: You should have seen everyone's reaction to that one.  
  
JWJ: It wasn't that funny!  
  
Leigh: Oh, you're still mad about that one mistake you made about Ratigan being dead.  
  
JWJ: No I'm not!  
  
Leigh: Touchy, aren't we?

* * *

"Megana? Megana!"  
  
"Let her be, Olivia."  
  
"Megana!" the voice called out in a half-sob. "Oh, you've killed her!"  
  
Blurry images moved around in front of me.  
  
"Will you shut up for once, you little brat! Ratigan, this girl is driving me insane! She won't shut up."  
  
"What do you want me to do about it? Gag her if you want to stop her from talking."  
  
As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw that I was somewhere underground. Olivia and Mr. Flaversham were directly across from me, tied tightly to each other. Ratigan loomed nearby, smoking a cigarette. Matthew Childres stood further behind, fidgeting with a gold watch. A couple of mice were playing poker on a slab of stone nearby. I perceived something like train tracks going through this cavern. This had to be a mine.  
  
I tried to sit up, realizing that my hand had been tied not-too-gently to a wooden support. "She's stirring," Childres said urgently.  
  
"Megana!" Olivia cried out again.  
  
"Olivia? Mr. Flaversham?" I said faintly.  
  
"Are you all right, dear?" Mr. Flaversham asked.  
  
"He poisoned you, didn't he?" Olivia said excitedly.  
  
Ratigan's eyes shifted towards me. "In a way," I said in a low voice.  
  
She gasped.

"Oh, will you stop being so dramatic!" Childres whined. "It was only chloroform, for heaven's sake!" He talked as if he had been the one who had chloroformed me.  
  
"Mr. Flaversham? Olivia? Have they been harming you?" I ventured to question. Mr. Flaversham was about to answer when Childres interrupted, "What does it matter? They'll be dead in a couple hours anyway."  
  
My stomach sank. Mr. Flaversham groaned, as if he had known it all along. Olivia's face wore a pitiful expression between crying and disbelief. I was speechless. "What... I- but... you!" I turned to Ratigan.  
  
He gave me a blank look. "What were you expecting?"  
  
"Professor, please leave my daughter and Mrs. Havers alone," Flaversham pleaded. "They don't deserve this."  
  
"Father!" Olivia cried.  
  
"Meg here isn't going to share your fate, Flaversham," he replied. "But you and your little horror has caused me years of unspeakable grief."  
  
"Let them go!" I begged.  
  
"Stay out of this, wench!" Ratigan barked. "I've waited for this for years. Do you really think I will allow you to change my mind?"  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
They all exclaimed in a chorus:  
  
"Meg!" (Ratigan)  
  
"Megana!" (Olivia)  
  
"Mrs. Havers!" (Mr. Flaversham)  
  
"Young lady!" (Childres)  
  
I sighed. "What is everyone's problem? Grown men are allowed to use profanity; why can't I?"  
  
Ratigan started to reply, but was interrupted by Childres. "Because it is completely unladylike! You're an absolute disgrace! You tried to fight my kidnappers, you paraded around on a stage in that-" (here he gestured at the costume from the saloon, which I was still wearing) "-in front of a bunch of dishonorable creatures, and here you are, back talking-"  
  
"You were in that saloon too, you buffoon!"

"That was different."  
  
"How?"  
  
He ignored my question. "You women, and your senseless minds! You couldn't get along without males to keep you in line. It's all a part of that unintelligent equal rights movement, it's completely-"  
  
"Matt, will you put a lid on it! No one wants to hear about your 'political views'. We are so off-topic that I can't even remember what we were talking about!" Ratigan looked so exasperated that Olivia had to stifle a giggle. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes." He gave us one of these evil smiles of his. He pointed at the Flavershams. "You two will die by sunset. No exceptions. I want my revenge." He walked up to me, leaned down, and whispered, "As soon as we dispose of everyone else, you're accompanying me to San Francisco." He gave me a deliberate kiss. I struggled to pull away. He stood up with satisfaction printed all over his face.  
  
"Your independence is going to get you killed someday," Childres said. I could not remember if Ratigan had said that to me before, but it sounded familiar. "Ratigan, why do you waste your time with this one? She's a thorn in everyone's side."  
  
That mouse was so annoying!  
  
"CHILDRES! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD FROM YOU!" Ratigan screamed.  
  
Obviously James Ratigan agreed with me.

* * *

JWJ: Man, if the real Ia- erm, I mean, Matt Childres reads this-  
  
Meg: I don't care. He's just as arrogant and stupid and makes just as big a deal out of things. It's called 'characterization'. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

"You're positive that she didn't come back last night?" Basil questioned Mrs. Pipton.  
  
"Absolutely sir. The young lady had a habit of leaving after dinner and staying out till at 11 or 12 o'clock," the matronly Mrs. Pipton replied. "Why? Is she in trouble?"  
  
Basil and Dawson exchanged uneasy glances. "It would be a great help if you would let us investigate her room."  
  
"Oh, of course!"

* * *

A minute later Basil was eagerly searching through Meg's room. It took him only a moment to find a pad of paper with the words:  
  
_Rodent Standard Oil Co., _

_west of town, approx. 2 miles _

_Carlton Hotel Room #216 _

_Saloon on Main: poker_  
  
"Seems simple enough," Dawson said. "Obviously the girl has made notes on places that Childres frequents. Could she have gone to Standard Oil?"  
  
"Perhaps..." Basil was on his knees, searching to ground.  
  
"Basil, what on earth are you doing?"  
  
"Shhh!" After another minute of inspecting, he finally got up. "We're going to the saloon."

* * *

Once there, Basil went up to the bartender, and holding up a photograph said, "Have you seen this young lady?"  
  
"Yes sir; she was in here for five nights in a row."  
  
"Last night?"  
  
"No, she wasn't."  
  
"No one saw her? At all?"  
  
"Let me check." The bartender consulted one of the waiters, and after consulting with him for a few moments, said, "This mouse here saw her last night outside the door, but she didn't come in."  
  
"Did you see in what direction she went?" Basil asked the young mouse.  
  
"Yes sir, she went- wait, can I see the photograph again?"  
  
Basil handed it to him. He paused for a moment, and said, "She hailed a cab out front. I was emptying the garbage bins at the alley on the side, and I heard her say, 'Standard Oil headquarters.'"  
  
"She did?" Dawson asked.  
  
"Eh, let's go friend," Basil hastily said, pulling the doctor by the arm. "Thank you so much, gentlemen."  
  
The bartender watched them go. "Good work, Jack. Childres will be pleased."

* * *

"Foolish girl!" Basil fumed as they walked along. "First she disobeys my orders by coming here, then she goes to Childres' company alone! I should've NEVER let her out of my sight! It would've been better if I had kept her in London."  
  
"You're right about that."  
  
Basil stopped in his tracks. "Thank you so much for being supportive," he said sarcastically.  
  
"What do you want me to say?"  
  
"You're supposed to tell me that I had no way of knowing this would turn into a catastrophe!" They continued in silence for several minutes. "This is all her fault," Basil muttered.  
  
Dawson was outraged. "The greatest detective in the world is blaming his mistake on a 19 year old girl? That is preposterous, and you know it!"  
  
"Oh really? The stupid girl had no reason to hunt the kidnappers down!"  
  
"You're now referring to her as stupid?"  
  
"She was completely irrational trying to go after the kidnappers. There was no reason to it, except to defy my orders."  
  
"And that's the only reason for her actions? To disobey you? Basil, you're not as brilliant as I once thought you were. It never occurred to you that she would care as much about Olivia and Hiram as you do? That's exactly why she was so determined to crack this case without you before it was too late."  
  
Basil was shocked. Dawson had never talked like this to him before.  
  
"You don't know Meg as well as you think," Dawson added.  
  
"So you're taking her side!"  
  
"No I'm not."  
  
"Yes you are!"  
  
"Basil, I am only stating the truth."  
  
Basil glared at his companion. "If you believe yourself to be such a professional in this matter, then you take your own path."  
  
"Basil, I didn't-"  
  
"GO!" The detective stormed away.  
  
Dawson was about to go after his friend, but a receding figure from a cliff nearby caught his eye. Instead he took off in that direction.

* * *

Basil showed no sign of anger at Dawson. He even chuckled as he made his way along. The doctor had despised Basil's plan to get rid of Meg; he had just needed a little coaxing to get his anger out. Basil would find some way to apologize to Dawson, and then all would be right again. Without a doubt the doctor was following him, faithful as ever to a case.  
  
The detective also had a hunch that he was walking into a trap.  
  
He went over a small rise, and in the distance he saw Standard Oil, looming over in the midday sun like some giant monster.  
  
Threescore mice, armed to the teeth, popped up from the surrounding rocks.

* * *

While we waited, I talked to Hiram and Olivia so they would not dwell on what was to come.  
  
At first Childres tried getting Ratigan into a conversation, but gave up after the professor told him that he was a waste of life. After that Childres sat off with one of his workers talking or jotting something down in a small leather pocketbook. Ratigan listened to our conversation for a while. He left when a mouse in a cowboy hat came in and whispered something urgently in his ear.  
  
By this time, our conversation had drifted off to Basil. I noticed that this topic cheered Olivia up a great deal. She held on to hope that he would save us. Flaversham, though he did not share his daughter's views, seemed to appreciate this subject.  
  
I was telling them about our adventures in Shanghai when Childres butt in.  
  
"Your detective friend is no match for us," he stated. I rolled my eyes.  
  
"Yes he is!" Olivia exclaimed.  
  
"Well, we'll have him yet."  
  
"Well, you're not involved in this conversation, are you?" I said shortly.  
  
"You are our prisoners. I have every right to-"  
  
"Would you can it for once!" Flaversham sighed. "Don't you realize that everyone in this room could honesty care less about your pointless comments!"  
  
Childres was furious. "How dare you talk that way to me!" he yelled. "You sir, are in no position to treat me with such disrespect! Rafael!" A dwarfish mouse with a frayed tail came running. The millionaire pointed to Olivia. "Untie that girl. Toy maker, your daughter is going to pay for your insolence!"  
  
The mouse called Rafael was about to cut Olivia's bonds when the phrase "STOP RIGHT THERE, CHILDRES!" echoed throughout the mine. Ratigan stormed in and, grabbing Childres by the collar, roared, "THESE ARE NOT YOUR PRISONERS, THEY'RE MINE! AND YOU WILL NOT PUT HOLES THROUGH ANY OF MY PRISONERS JUST TO PROVE A POINT!" He threw the foolish mouse to the ground, straightened his tie, and smiled, his manner the exact opposite of what it had been a minute ago. "Besides, I happen to agree with Flaversham.  
  
"May I have the pleasure of presenting to you," he continued to Olivia, grinning wickedly, "Your 'faultless' detective friend, Mr. Basil of Baker Street."  
  
I gasped. Basil was led in by about a dozen other mice, blindfolded and tied. I only recognized him by his Inverness cape.  
  
"Basil!" Olivia cried.  
  
"Olivia Flaversham?" he asked, pointing his face in her direction. "Are you quite all right?"  
  
"Isn't this just precious. I have almost everyone I need: Flaversham the toy maker, his little brat, my dear Miss Sarentis, and Basil!" Ratigan laughed cruelly. "Now all I need is your tubby Dr. Dawson."  
  
"Meg? You were caught too?" Basil groaned.

* * *

Emma: Basil just fell into that trap a little too easily...  
  
Meg: Yeah, I mean it's like I just handed him to Childres. Or Ratigan. Or whoever. That's not right.  
  
JWJ: Leave Childres alone.  
  
Lizz: Wait, you actually care about a character for once?  
  
JWJ: _(Quickly)_ No! 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

Meg: What will happen to Basil? Will Dawson save the day? And what about Childres? Is he going to be a major villain later on?  
  
RAEB: Actually no one was wondering that.  
  
Meg: The readers might. Oh well. Anyway, perhaps this chapter will enlighten us all.

* * *

Dawson was wandering the parched wilderness he now found himself in. He was hopelessly lost.  
  
"Basil old friend, where are you?" he muttered to himself.  
  
"Your friend has been taken," a quiet voice behind him said.  
  
Dawson spun around, armed with his Army pistol. He faced a mouse in a sombrero and a black poncho. The hat hid the mouse's face; all the doctor could see was his mouth.  
  
"Who are you?" Dawson asked suspiciously.  
  
"I know you, Dr. Dawson," the mouse said. "You may call me José."  
  
"That does not help me much."  
  
The mouse held out his paws to show that he was not armed. "Do not worry; I am a friend. But the detective needs your help. He has been caught by that fiend Ratigan, who also has the Flaversham family and Mrs. Havers. They are in a mine just over that hill." José pointed.  
  
Dawson immediately started off in that direction, but the mysterious mouse stopped him. "Do not rush into this too quickly, doctor. The entrance is guarded, and there are scores of mice searching for you to add to the list of captives."  
  
"Now see here!" Dawson snapped. "How do I know that I can trust you? You sir, seem to know too much of the enemy's plans for your own good!"  
  
José sighed. "If only..." he muttered. "I cannot explain to you where I get my information, but for the love of God, trust me! It will soon be too late to do anything for your friends."  
  
Dawson cautiously crawled to the summit of the hill. He could see that what the mouse said was true. "So Ratigan has them all inside?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you know of another way in?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It would be most invaluable that you showed me the way. I am grateful, sir."

* * *

"Now let's see," Ratigan said happily. "You have, of course, noted the ten bombs that are placed all around you. They are set to go off in exactly 30 minutes. We shall leave this lovely mine, and in half an hour's time..." Ratigan pantomimed an explosion with his hands, "you will all be blasted to 'Kingdom come,' as Meg here would say." Basil, Flaversham, and Olivia were all tied to one another in a mine cart. I was being held by two of the thugs, still tightly bounded.  
  
Flaversham seemed resigned to his fate, whispering soothing words to his daughter. I could tell Olivia was trying her hardest to be brave. I hated Ratigan all the more for sending so innocent a child to such an end.  
  
Basil was something completely different. Dawson had once given me an account of the last time Basil had been captured by Ratigan. He had been miserable, depressed, dejected that he had fallen into such an easy-to- see trap. But now he seemed rather impatient, as if Ratigan was taking too long to finish the deed.  
  
"Well Basil, the best mouse won, didn't he?" Ratigan boasted.  
  
"Ratigan, egotism does nothing for your character. Besides, you haven't finished me yet!"  
  
Ratigan burst out laughing, as if this was the funniest thing he had ever heard. The thugs, following their boss's lead, started to laugh along with him.  
  
As they quieted down, and Childres started to try to insult the detective too (which was completely unsuccessful, considering Basil was doing a pretty good job embarrassing the millionaire more than he ever could to Basil), Ratigan started towards me. He bent down and said in low tones, "I am invincible! Remember that, my dear."  
  
There was finality to his words that enraged me. "You're despicable!" I spat out. "Revenge is a cruel thing."  
  
"Ha! How ignorant you are of the way the world works!"  
  
"Basil would never do this to you!"  
  
"No, he'd sooner send me to the gallows. He is not better than I in that sense." 

"To sentence Mr. Flaversham and Olivia to the same fate, two completely harmless mice who do not pose a threat to you, is horrendous! It's diabolical!"  
  
"It's marvelous, isn't it?" he grinned.  
  
"It's foul, horrible, evil! Why won't you leave them alone?" I looked away because tears were threatening to come.  
  
He gently pulled my face back towards his. One tear trickled down my cheek.  
  
"What's this?" I barely heard him whisper. His gaze was piercing.  
  
"Please..." I begged.  
  
He sighed and straightened up. Suddenly he barked to the group of thugs, "Someone let the Flaversham brat off the cart."  
  
I could hardly believe my ears!  
  
"What! You're letting her go free?" Matthew Childres exclaimed. "Ratigan, you can't do that! Don't do anything!" he yelled to Rafael, who was already in the cart. Ratigan frowned. "Mr. Childres, you seem to forget that you are the subordinate. You cannot simply contradict my orders."  
  
Childres ignored him. "You can't show power by being easy on these prisoners. I believe you're getting too soft for the job, James!"  
  
Ratigan let out a low, forced chuckle. "Soft?"  
  
Childres stiffened and took a few steps backwards, talking in a high- pitched voice. "Come now... you can't be... eh... you know what I mean... right?"  
  
The professor clenched his hands, but then smiled. "Perhaps you are right, Matt," he said. "I am, as you would say, a bit older and possibly a bit slower than you. Maybe it is about time I passed on leadership to you."  
  
Childres was quite taken aback. "Well, I didn't.... I mean-"  
  
Ratigan clamped him on the back. "No, I insist. I need someone with your intelligence level to take care of all the work I started.  
  
Childres seemed to relax a bit. "Really?"  
  
"Yes," he answered.  
  
_This is strange... _I thought.  
  
The owner of Standard Oil drew himself up to his full height. "Rafael, take the girl out and shoot her dead."  
  
"NO!" Flaversham yelled.  
  
Olivia screamed as she was dragged out and thrown to the ground. Rafael pulled her up and took out a revolver.  
  
"No... why don't you do the deed yourself?" Ratigan said to Childres. "To show your men who the real boss is?"  
  
I could see that Childres thought this a brilliant idea. "Yes, I was just thinking that," he lied. "Rafael, give me the gun."  
  
The dwarfish mouse obeyed. Childres grabbed Olivia's collar. "I'll show you all how to properly dispose of a little nuisance," he said, trying to sound ruthless.  
  
"Oh... Matt?" Ratigan said in a mocking tone. "Remember how you called me soft?" Fear flashed in his eyes. "I..."  
  
I heard a shot and saw Matthew Childres spin to the ground. He was dead.  
  
Olivia screamed again.  
  
"Would anyone else like to challenge my authority?" A deadly silence followed. Satisfied, Ratigan returned the gun to his coat. He whirled on the thugs and roared, "I'LL SHOW YOU HOW SOFT I AM! DO NOT TOY WITH ME! I NEVER SHOW MERCY!"  
  
He pulled out a pocket watch and studied it for a minute. "That little delay has cost us five minutes of our precious time." The thugs continued to stare silently. "DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IDIOTS EVERYTHING? TAKE MEGANA SARENTIS AND OLIVIA FLAVERSHAM OUTSIDE!"  
  
"Daddy!" Olivia cried as we were ushered away.  
  
"I love you Olivia."  
  
"Basil..." was all I could utter.  
  
"Meg, take care of yourself and Olivia," Basil called.  
  
The last thing I saw was Ratigan taking off his hat and bowing to Basil, grinning broadly. "Bye bye, Basil," he said.

* * *

Dawson was having great difficulty keeping up with the mouse José as they traveled through a rocky and narrow path through the mine. The mouse seemed tireless.  
  
"Are we almost there?" he gasped.  
  
"A little further."

* * *

"Do you have any bright ideas?" Flaversham asked anxiously. Basil was trying to rub the rope that bound his paws on a rusty section of the cart, but to no avail.  
  
"This is taking too long!" Basil said, frustrated. "If only the cart were placed on that track over there; we could possibly release the break and ride away from the dynamite. But of course Ratigan thought of that!"  
  
"Could we possibly get out of the mine cart and crawl away?"  
  
"I've thought of that. The problem is, the cart's too heavy for us to tip, and even if we could tip it, the detonation of the bombs will cause the whole mine to cave in on us before we could get out."  
  
The toy maker sighed. "It was only a thought."  
  
"Mr. Flaversham, it appears to be completely hopeless. Oh, what a fool I was to send Meg here!"  
  
"God bless her for saving my poor Olivia," Flaversham said to himself. "Poor Olivia..."  
  
"Don't worry," Basil said gently, reading his thoughts. "Meg will make sure no harm comes to her."  
  
"Basil!" a familiar voice cried. The doctor appeared on a rock shelf above them.  
  
"Dawson?" Basil asked in disbelief. "Is it really you, old friend? How the deuce did you get here?"  
  
Dawson jumped down to the two victims. "A mouse showed me the way. But where is he?" He looked around.  
  
"Never mind that, get us out of here! The bombs go off in seven minutes!"  
  
Dawson produced a small knife and went to work cutting the bonds. As soon as Basil was free, he took over releasing Flaversham.  
  
"Five minutes!" Dawson exclaimed.  
  
"How did you get in here?" Basil asked Dawson led the way to the exit.  
  
"Passage on the side over here."  
  
"How long did it take you?"  
  
"About ten minutes."  
  
"Ten minutes!" The trio climbed up to the rock shelf. "We're going to have to run for it."  
  
They took off through the passage, Dawson leading the way.

* * *

I stood by a wagon outside, waiting for the blast to come. I had finally been untied, but escape was pointless when Rafael was holding Olivia.  
  
Ratigan looked at his watch. "Thirty seconds!" he called out.  
  
Olivia started to struggle. "Would ya stoppit!" Rafael yelled.  
  
She kicked him in the shin, causing him to lose his grip on her. She dashed for the mine.  
  
"Olivia!" I ran after her.  
  
"Meg, come back here this instant!"  
  
A rumble was heard, and the ground shook violently. I caught up with the girl within the entrance to the mine. Rocks started to fall around us. I quickly scooped her up and ran back the way I came as the whole thing started to collapse.

* * *

Basil, Dawson, and Flaversham sprinted through the small passage as rocks went down behind them. "Hurry!" Basil shouted urgently.  
  
"There!" Dawson panted, pointing to a small bit of light in the distance.  
  
Basil pushed Dawson to make him go faster, the toy maker following close behind.  
  
Dust started to rise from the collapse, making it harder to see. Flaversham tripped, causing everyone else to fall over. They all scrambled back up and darted for the exit.  
  
"Oh no!"

* * *

I ran like I had never run before. As I ran, the hem of my dress got caught on a rock. The dress tore as I stumbled down the hill. I finally tripped over another rock, twisting my foot. Olivia flew out of my arms. Shots of pain went through my foot.  
  
Silence.  
  
_They're dead. Mr. Flaversham and Basil.  
_  
I could not believe it. They were gone.  
  
"Meg!" I could make out Ratigan's form in the settling dust as he came to my aide. "Are you all right?"  
  
"My foot," I gasped.  
  
He knelt down and inspected it. I cried out when he touched it.  
  
"You've broken it," he said sharply. "That's going to slow us down considerably."  
  
"Oh Megana!" Olivia exclaimed. She was crying silently to herself, staring at the caved-in mine.  
  
"Shut up! It's your fault anyway. If you hadn't ran off, this would've never happened!" He was not talking about the two deaths he was responsible for. The professor was furious with her for causing my injury.  
  
"Can you fix it?" I asked quickly, trying to divert his attention.  
  
"If I make a splint, do you think you can handle a journey to town and a five hour train ride?"  
  
"Yes," I breathed heavily. Ratigan's mood could change in an instant. I had to be agreeable if I wanted to protect Olivia.  
  
He stood up and gazed at the remains of the mine. He doubled up in laughter and, pointing to the mess he had caused, shouted, "I HAVE WON! YOU HEAR THAT, BASIL?" He listened for a moment. Then he said, "Of course not. YOU'RE DEAD!" He was once again consumed with laughter, and I believe, a good deal of madness.

* * *

"Is anyone hurt or... dead?" Basil called out into the dark.  
  
"No," Dawson and Flaversham chorused.  
  
"Well, at least there's that," the detective muttered.  
  
"What happened?" Flaversham asked. "Where's the way out?"  
  
"Blocked by some of those rocks. The worst should be over. Luckily the whole mine didn't fall down. We must move some of those rocks before we suffocate in here." The three escapees attempted to remove the rocks at the top of the pile, but once one rock was removed, more fell into its place.  
  
After a while Dawson exclaimed, "This is impossible! We're getting nowhere."  
  
"What other choice do we have?" the toy maker asked.  
  
"We must get out of here!" Basil cried.  
  
The shifting of rocks made all three mice stop. Suddenly daylight broke through. "Dr. Dawson? Are you and your comrades all right?"  
  
"José? Is it you?"  
  
"Who are you talking to? Who's José?" Basil asked.  
  
"The mouse who led me to you," Dawson replied. "He's freed us. We're all right!"  
  
They scrabbled to the surface and out of the darkness of the mine. When they got to the top, there was no one around.  
  
"José?" Dawson called. The mouse was nowhere in sight. "Where is he?"  
  
"He was here before?"  
  
"He was just here!"  
  
The doctor turned to Basil and Flaversham. The detective was muttering to himself, "José...José..." He looked at Dawson. "Never mind that now, we've got to find Ratigan."  
  
The three set off for the road, keeping an eye out for the enemy. By the time they got to the entrance to the mine, the area was completely deserted.  
  
"They probably went back to San Antonio," Flaversham offered. "Ratigan had mentioned something about making a certain train."  
  
"Can you remember which train?" Basil asked as they headed in the direction of the town."  
  
"I cannot quite remember. I do believe it began with an S. Maybe Seattle."  
  
"Seattle is a possibility," Basil muttered. "Could it have been Salt Lake City or Santa Fe?"  
  
"Perhaps it was Santa Fe. San- ta Fe," Flaversham said to himself. "San-"  
  
Basil clamped his mouth shut. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the desert. Further down the road a large, dark, four-legged creature was approaching them.  
  
"It's a dog," Dawson said.  
  
"Yes, but is it friend or foe? I doubt that it works for Ratigan, but one can never be sure how friendly those creatures can be."  
  
As Basil ushered them to some rocks along the side of the road, Dawson said, "What about Toby?"  
  
"Really Dawson, what a question! I trained Toby myself. He's perfectly reliable. But this one, this one could be wild. Dogs aren't always the best of friends."  
  
They peered over the rocks as the dog continued toward them. It was a scraggly German Shepard. It sniffed the ground as it came closer. Finally he was level with the three hiding mice, and picking up their scent, found them.  
  
"Eh, hello old chap," Basil said. "I see that you're looking for something. Anything we can help you with?"  
  
"Yeah," the dog answered. "Are you Basil?"  
  
"Considering that that name wouldn't be very common in these parts, I do believe that I am the mouse you would be looking for. Why do you ask?"  
  
"I got a note from someone saying a little mouse, named Basil, needed a lift back to Antonio."  
  
"Well, that's rather helpful. Yes, if you could convey us to the train station, we'd greatly appreciate it."  
  
"Hop on then," the dog said, lying down so the mice could climb on his back.  
  
"Who was it that sent the note?" Dawson asked. The dog took off at a brisk trot.  
  
"Pardon me, but would you be so kind as to speed it up a bit? We are in a hurry." The dog started to run. The three mice held on for their lives. "Eh, what did you say, old friend?" Basil asked.  
  
Dawson said more loudly, "Who sent the note?"  
  
"Come now Dawson, it's simple. Who, besides Ratigan, knows of our whereabouts?"  
  
"Meg."  
  
"Dawson! You aren't using your common sense this evening."  
  
Dawson was indignant. "You don't need to insult me."  
  
"I apologize. But I know you can answer this one. Think for a moment."  
  
"I... José!"  
  
"But of course! I knew you would get it."  
  
"But why is this one mouse aiding us so much?" Dawson wondered. "Do you know him?"  
  
"I can't say that I do. That is, unless..."  
  
Dawson and Flaversham waited for him to finish his thought. When he didn't say anything, Flaversham said, "Perhaps he is leading us into a trap."  
  
Basil shook his head. "He led Dawson to us, Flaversham. If he had wanted to do harm to us, he would've left us there."  
  
"Perhaps he once worked for Ratigan," Dawson suggested.  
  
"If I am correct, he did once work for Ratigan."  
  
"So you know who he is?"  
  
"If I am right, then I throw all logic out the window. Please do not press me for details," Basil said quickly before Dawson could question this statement. "I may explain it to you some day, old friend, but now is not the time!"

* * *

Emma: You added a talking dog?  
  
Meg: I was really mixing up 'An American Tail' and 'The Great Mouse Detective'. Sorry!  
  
JWJ: You shot Childres!  
  
Lizz: Actually Ratigan did.  
  
JWJ: Meg!  
  
Leigh: Hold on, who's José?  
  
Meg: _(Evil grin)_ You may never know.  
  
Leigh: Figures. Fine, be that way. See if I care. _(Storms off)_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

_(JWJ comes in pulling Meg in by the ear.)_  
  
Meg: Owow! Let go!  
  
_(JWJ lets Meg go.)_  
  
JWJ: Now apologize.  
  
Meg: Apologize? Apologize for what?  
  
JWJ: Come on, you know!  
  
Meg: Fine. _(Sighs)_ What we did to Matt Childres is in no way related to how we feel about him. It was only for the sake of the plot.  
  
JWJ: What do you mean 'we'?  
  
Meg: Oh come on! You told me when I was naming the character that it was a good idea!  
  
JWJ: Did not!  
  
Meg: Did too!  
  
JWJ: Did not!  
  
Sarah: WOULD YOU TWO SHUT UP ALREADY?  
  
Meg: Okay. Next chapter is my absolute favorite. Believe me, there's method to the madness.

* * *

In minutes they were once again in San Antonio. The dog dropped them off at the train station.  
  
"Thank you old chap," Basil said as he leaped off. "If you ever hear from that mouse, have him refer to me."  
  
The dog gave out a short bark in reply and ran off.  
  
Basil, Dawson, and Flaversham ran over to the train schedule. After scanning it for a few moments, Basil went to the ticket booth and conversed with the mouse there. Flaversham and Dawson waited nearby.  
  
"San... San..." Flaversham muttered.  
  
A young mother walked past them, yelling to her little girl, "Fran! Come here this instant!"  
  
"That's it!" Flaversham exclaimed. Dawson jumped.  
  
Basil spun around. "For heaven's sake, Flaversham, what is it?"  
  
"It was a San Fran something."  
  
"What was?"  
  
"Where he was headed!"  
  
"San Francisco is the only city it could be. Was that it?" Basil asked.  
  
"I am almost certain."  
  
Basil turned back to the ticket mouse and urgently talked to him for another minute. Then he hurried back to his companions. "There's a train leaving right now that's headed for San Francisco!"

* * *

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.  
_  
Olivia kicked her seat in a rhythmic pattern.  
  
"Little girl, if you do not quit that aggravating noise, I will personally cut off your foot and stuff it down your throat," Ratigan threatened.  
  
Olivia glared at him but let her foot flap to a stop. She then proceeded to watch the darkness outside the window of the train.  
  
I sat directly across from her, my foot supported on the seat next to her. It still hurt a great deal, but my emotional pain was much stronger than any physical pain I had ever endured. All I could think of were ways to kill the loathsome creature sitting next to me.  
  
Olivia's very presence seemed to annoy him, and I feared that my protection was not enough.  
  
"Professor," I said in a low voice, "what is to be done about Olivia?" Olivia looked up in alarm at this statement.  
  
Ratigan sighed. "Meg, I don't care what happens to the little brat. It is pretty much out of my hands. You choose her future for her. Leave her on the streets, send her on the Orphan Train for all I care!"  
  
Olivia stared at me, terrified. I did not have the slightest idea what the Orphan Train was, so I immediately eliminated that idea. "'Liv, do you have any relatives?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Not one? Not even a friend of the family?"  
  
"Mr. Basil was our only friend. Wait, Dr. Dawson is!"  
  
"Dawson?" Ratigan said sharply. Then he laughed. "Yes, send her to the good doctor!" he said sarcastically.  
  
"What's wrong with that idea?" Olivia demanded.  
  
Ratigan grinned. "I had actually forgot about him! He was last seen leaving San Antonio with Basil. But Basil was found minus your tubby friend. So where could he have disappeared to?"  
  
"Leave him alone!" Olivia cried.  
  
"Oh, he is of no concern to me," Ratigan said. "He could barely get along with Basil there to guide him!"  
  
I looked out the door to our compartment, and to my utter shock, saw Basil in the aisle!  
  
Suddenly everything started spinning. I was falling into a void of blackness.  
  
"Meg? Meg!"  
  
I opened my eyes. Apparently I had fainted. I was now lying on the bench on the left side of the compartment. Ratigan was standing over me, and nearby there was a young porter, looking on.  
  
"What happened? Is it your leg?" Ratigan asked.  
  
_Did I just see Basil? Impossible!_ "Just a little weak," I gasped. "I'll be all right."  
  
"Do you need a doctor?" the porter offered, not knowing what to do.  
  
"No, she just needs some rest," Ratigan said abruptly. "Now get out!"  
  
The young mouse scurried away. Ratigan seated himself next to Olivia, who shrank as far into her corner of the compartment as she could.  
  
"Meg, you look like you've seen a ghost..."  
  
I slowly pulled myself up and glanced at the door. No detective. Nothing.  
  
Ratigan was staring intently at me. I must have missed something he had said. "What?" I asked faintly.  
  
Ratigan turned to Olivia. "See this! This is all your-"  
  
But her face was completely white, a look of pure shock and fear pasted on it. The professor followed her stare to the corridor.  
  
"WHAT!"  
  
He drew his revolver as he shoved the compartment door open.  
  
"YOU!"  
  
"DAWSON!"  
  
"BASIL! RUN!"  
  
"MOVE!"  
  
"WATCH OUT!"  
  
"MOVE!!"  
  
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"  
  
"GET OUT OF THE WAY!"  
  
I rolled off the seat and fell onto the floor with a cry of pain. Olivia jumped on her seat and ran over to the door, leaping into the corridor. I dragged myself after her.

* * *

This had not been a part of Basil's plan. Okay, he had to admit to himself that he had never actually come up with a plan in the first place. He had been trying to signal Meg to let her know that help was on the way. He knew she would not reveal anything to Ratigan. But he had not seen Olivia sitting there in the corner.  
  
He dodged mice in the corridor, trying to think of a way to trap Ratigan. The huge rat was on his heels. He quickly spun around and, bracing himself against the walls of the corridor, kicked out with all his might. Ratigan screamed, falling backwards. Basil reached for his pistol, but the rat was upon him in a flash. They fought fiercely, kicking and clawing at each other.  
  
"Sirs..." the conductor said loudly. They ignored him. "Sirs, you cannot fight on this train. You both must get off at the next station. Sirs! Argh!" Basil, who had been tripped by Ratigan, fell into the poor mouse. The detective got up and ran out of the car. The professor had to first disentangle his cape before following.  
  
"STOP, RAT!" Dawson shouted.  
  
Ratigan turned around, and smiling, held up Basil's pistol. "Think the old chap needs this?"  
  
Dawson began to back away. Ratigan fired off two rounds at the doctor before continuing his chase. The mice around him screamed. Some ran back into the compartments; others came out to see what the racket was.  
  
Flaversham ran forward. "Doctor!" he exclaimed.  
  
Dawson's face was red, but he managed a smile. "That fiend managed to put two bullets into my own army revolver!" He pulled out a gun from his coat pocket, which was mutilated from the two bullets it had stopped. He started to laugh.  
  
"Daddy!" Olivia yelled, running down the corridor.  
  
"Olivia!" Flaversham scooped her up and hugged her.  
  
"Where's Meg?" Dawson asked.  
  
"Here I am," a voice called out softly. They all looked; Meg was crawling across the floor. Mice in the hallway made room for her, but with looks of disgust on their faces. Now Dawson could see why; she was wearing a cheap costume of some sort.  
  
"Meg! What's wrong?"  
  
"Her leg is broken," Olivia replied.  
  
Dawson ran forward to help her up. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Who got shot? Was it Basil?" she asked anxiously, breathing heavily.  
  
"No, it was I."  
  
"Dawson! It's not funny!"  
  
"I am telling the truth." He showed her the remains of his gun.  
  
"Then where's Basil?" she cried.

* * *

Basil crouched on the roof of the train, facing his archenemy. "Nice to see you again, Ratigan," he said softly. They both swayed dangerously, but neither seemed bothered by this.  
  
"This time I'll kill you with my bare claws," Ratigan growled. He lunged at the detective and they both went rolling across the top of the train, almost falling off. The fighting creatures grabbed the sides just before they could fall.  
  
There they were, hanging onto the side of a train.  
  
Ratigan kicked out with his legs, trying to force Basil to let go. Basil almost lost his grip, but quickly recovered. He held on with one paw and aimed a punch in Ratigan's face, but the rat ducked. It grazed his cheek.  
  
The professor ripped at him with his claws, tearing his cape. Basil grabbed his arm, and they did a sort of arm wrestle.  
  
"Basil!" Dawson called out. He and Flaversham had just left one of the cars and had seen them hanging above them. "We're coming!"  
  
They started to climb up the side of the train when they encountered some of Ratigan's own henchmen... with revolvers.  
  
"Heheh," one said. "This is gonna be easier than I thought."  
  
"Dawson?" Flaversham said quietly, a bit of a panic in his voice. "How are we on weaponry?"  
  
"Only my ruined pistol..." Dawson shot the toy maker a fearful look.  
  
"DAWSON! DUCK!" a feminine voice shouted.  
  
He looked around. "There's no duck around here-"  
  
"GET DOWN!" Flaversham shoved him as several shots sounded. The henchmen dispersed in fright.  
  
Dawson looked up. "Meg?"

* * *

I was leaning against the door to the car laughing quietly to myself, a gun smoking in my hands. "'There's no duck around here'?" I said sarcastically, gasping for breath.  
  
"DAWSON! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" Basil yelled from his position, still struggling with the rat.  
  
"Give it up, Basil! You're all dead mice!" Ratigan snarled.  
  
"Basil! Get away so I can kill him!" I shouted.  
  
"Meg! Let me handle this!" he barked back. "You're a horrible shot anyway!"  
  
"WHAT?" I exclaimed, but not loudly enough for him to hear. "Oooh, I'll show you..." I limped forward, but Dawson pulled the gun away from me. "Meg, don't prove his point by killing him."  
  
Finally Basil and Ratigan lifted themselves back onto the safety of the roof. Dawson and Flaversham took off, disappearing somewhere under the train.  
  
"Oh, don't leave me here all alone..." I said to myself. I had lost sight of Basil and Ratigan.  
  
Just as I started to limp in the direction that Dawson and Flaversham had gone, Olivia burst out of the door. "Megana!" she exclaimed. "Where is everyone?"  
  
I pointed dumbly up at the roof. Just then I saw Basil leap the distance from the boxcar he had been on to the passenger car we were on.  
  
Flaversham came back, but looked too worried for my liking. "Ratigan's got a horde of thugs on this train! We'll never be able to make it to safety!"  
  
"What?" I asked.  
  
"We found ourselves in the midst of them, right here under the train," he continued. "They took one look at me and realized that the plan had gone to pieces. Dawson is trying to hold them off now!"  
  
"Mr. Flaversham, I'm useless with this leg. What are we going to do?"  
  
"Mrs. Havers, Oliva, you two need to get to safety!"  
  
He supported me and we hopped to the next car, finding a hole to let us in. One second later, a rather cut up and bruised Basil appeared behind us.  
  
"Basil!" Olivia exclaimed.  
  
"Where's Ratigan?" Flaversham asked.  
  
"With that gang of his. And Dawson! Oh, where are you, old friend?" He disappeared for a minute, but came back with Dawson in tow.  
  
The three males managed to shove a three-foot crate over the opening. "There!" Basil said. "That'll buy us some time."  
  
"What are we doing?" I asked.  
  
"Escaping I hope," Basil replied cheerfully.  
  
"Escaping! We can't run away now!"  
  
"We're outnumbered," Dawson said.  
  
"Why can't we just kill Ratigan?" I said bluntly. Basil ignored my question, and instead took a quick inspection of the boxcar. He hurried to a crate by the door to the boxcar. "One rat... only one!" I continued. "We can leave the thugs alone!"  
  
"Meg, those thugs will shoot us all dead before we can escape."  
  
"Coward," I muttered.  
  
He glared at me. "Live today, fight tomorrow. You should have at least learned that much from Mr. Liang."  
  
The detective scrambled up the side of the crate and pushed open the lid to the box. Meanwhile, the crate that was blocking the opening was starting to slide away. The assorted yells of Ratigan's henchmen were heard. Dawson and Flaversham strained to keep the crate over the opening, but they were fighting a losing battle. Olivia helped me to hobble over, and the four of us combined our strength to hold them back.  
  
Suddenly there was a huge explosion, and everyone was thrown back. I fell on my bad leg with a scream of pain.  
  
"Meg! Are you all right?" Basil tried to help me up. I fell back down.  
  
"Why does everyone keep asking me that? Of course I am not all right!" I snapped. Then I calmed down a bit. "What happened?"  
  
"There was gunpowder in those crates. I just took a little bit and lit it, but it set off both crates." I looked over at the door. It was completely blown off, leaving a tremendous hole in the boxcar. Flames licked the edges of the hole.  
  
"Dawson! Flaversham! Drag that crate in the corner over there!" Basil ordered. I tried to stand up again, but it felt like it was breaking off completely. "Basil..." I moaned. He gently picked me up and carried me to the hole he had created.  
  
Dawson and Flaversham had the crate by the edge. The Texan countryside whizzed past. "Closer to the edge," he commanded.  
  
"Basil! You're surely joking!" Dawson exclaimed. "This is madness!"  
  
"Aha! True, my dear Dawson. But there is method in it!" he said excitedly. "Closer!" They reluctantly obeyed, pushing a quarter of it over the edge. "Now everyone in! Quickly now!"  
  
Everyone was shocked. "We'll be killed!" Flaversham yelled.  
  
Just then the crate that was blocking the smaller opening to the boxcar was shoved away. Ratigan's sinister face popped into sight. "There they are!" he roared. "GET THEM!"  
  
Everyone scrambled in without further complaint. "Hang onto me," Basil said to me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he climbed up into the crate. Once in the crate, I realized that it was filled with blankets. I looked back. Ratigan had reached the crate, and was starting to climb the side.  
  
"COME BACK AND FIGHT, YOU COWARD!" Ratigan screeched.  
  
"Everyone leaned forward!" Basil called out, still holding onto me. Slowly the crate tottered over the edge, and suddenly fell. Ratigan leaped off just in time.  
  
I hardly remember what happened next. The crate tumbled along, finally crashing to pieces. As we flew out of the crate, I let go of Basil, rolling to a stop nearby.  
  
I must have fainted again, because I then found myself in a horse-drawn wagon.  
  
"What the...?" I said stupidly.  
  
"Good, you're awake." I looked besides me; Basil and Dr. Dawson were sitting besides me.  
  
"Where are the Flavershams?" I asked.  
  
"Sleeping," Basil replied. "They've had a hard day."  
  
"What's your name?" Dawson asked me.  
  
"Dawson, you know my name."  
  
"I am checking to see that you didn't suffer any trauma to the head," he said. 

"Megana Trina Sarentis Havers. I'm nineteen years old, I'm Danish, I lived near Alborg, Denmark until I was nine, when my parents died of typhoid fever, and I almost became a nun at age seventeen. I was married to Josh Havers, killed by Ratigan, who has kidnapped me... three times so far."  
  
"All right Meg, you're just fine," Dawson said.  
  
"I was sent to work for Basil during my training because I was unruly or something to that extent," I continued. Basil and Dawson exchanged confused looks. I kept talking. It almost reassured me that I was alive, that everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours was not just a nightmare, but had really happened. "I reside at Lower 221B Baker Street with Dr. David Q. Dawson and... wait! Basil, what's your first name?"  
  
He laughed. "You can stop now, Meg."  
  
"Okay... but what is your first name?"  
  
He leaned in and whispered, "Get some rest. I'll tell you another day."

* * *

Leigh: _(Sarcastically)_ Wonder where you got the 'method to the madness' line.  
  
Lizz: I liked this chapter!  
  
Meg: Lizz, you're my only supportive and uncomplaining friend. The rest of you are all mean!  
  
JWJ: That's because it's more fun to pick on you than to be nice to you.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

Basil had actually planned to follow Ratigan to San Francisco, but he discovered that the rat was actually headed back to the East Coast under the alias 'Jesse Kallaw'. So instead we traveled to Charleston, South Carolina, in hopes of catching him. Once there, we found that he took a passenger ship back to London using the same alias.  
  
Flaversham had expressed worries about living in New York City once more, so he decided to move back to England. Dawson accompanied the Flavershams back to New York. I was confined to a wheelchair. It was determined that the trip would be too difficult for me, so I went with Basil back to London.

* * *

One day, as we were sitting out on deck, I asked Basil, "What happened to Childres' company, Standard Oil?"  
  
He pulled out his pipe and lit it. "The American government raided it shortly after Matthew Childres' murder and shut it down. Apparently they found evidence that tied it to the Seven Plagues." He smiled grimly. "This was, of course, after I hinted to a Pinkerton detective friend of mine of a "hunch" I had about Standard Oil."  
  
"Oh." There was a long silence. Basil seemed to be pondering something. "Basil," I ventured, "I must apologize."  
  
He gave me a sharp glance, but went on smoking his pipe. "Whatever it is, I am sure I have taken no offense in it."  
  
"Basil, I know I caused you so much trouble when I ran off after Childres," I said. "Especially after you trusted me with this job."  
  
He started to cough, but quickly cleared his throat again. "Well I must admit, that didn't help matters. You could've gotten yourself killed!"  
  
"I know," I said miserably.  
  
His face softened a little. "Meg, I have a confession to make."  
  
My heart jumped with the tone of seriousness in his voice.  
  
"I sent you on a false trail."  
  
I breathed a sigh of relief, but then I gave meaning to his words. "I beg your pardon?" I asked sharply.  
  
He explained how he had exaggerated the situation between Flaversham and Childres when he had really expected nothing out of it. He then told me about wanting to protect me despite what had happened in Shanghai.  
  
"Don't you trust me?" I asked.  
  
"After what happened in Shanghai, or after what happened in San Antonio?" he retorted.  
  
"Don't speak to me like that!"  
  
"Listen to me for once!" he barked.  
  
"How can I, when you..." I dropped off. We met each other's eyes. "No one's perfect, and I suppose you and I are no exceptions," I said.  
  
He nodded in agreement. "I do not wish to give Ratigan an opportunity to harm you again."  
  
"And I do not want villains like him to harm the people I care about."  
  
We sat in silence a little longer. Then Basil said with a mischievous grin, "So, what do you propose we do to Ratigan when we finally catch him?"  
  
I returned the grin. "Send him to the gallows."  
  
"Perhaps, but it would appear to me that we were being too compassionate to him if we did that."  
  
"How about we tie him to a rock and throw him into the ocean?"  
  
"We could throw him back off Big Ben."  
  
"We'll feed him to a cat!"  
  
"I'd personally suggest sending him to the snowy mountain passages of Nepal and leaving him there to freeze to death."  
  
"Basil? Do you believe that he will ever be beaten?"  
  
"Yes. But you must give me time, you must give me time!"

* * *

Lizz: Awwwwwwww!  
  
JWJ: What NOW? Lizz, you're the only one who says 'aw' anymore. Stop it!  
  
Sarah: _(To herself) _Well, that's something we can use to drive him crazy.  
  
RAEB: So I guess Ratigan got away again.  
  
Meg: Yeah. I'm not as creative as other writers, I can't think up a new and totally awesome villain.  
  
RAEB: Which explains why Childres was a wimp.  
  
Meg: Exactly. Okay, I'm brainstorming another story. Perhaps I'll get it typed up sometime soon. Until then, adieu!  
  
Leigh: Wait, that last line was from The Valley of Fear!  
  
Meg: SO?  
  
Leigh: So? You copied!  
  
Meg: Oh, sorry Miss Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
